Every Little Thing I Do in the Nighttime
by sigmakutie
Summary: A night in the life of Puck. M for very course language, but only minor sexual explicitness. Please read the A/N at the end.


Every Little Thing I Do in the Nighttime

_I can't remember the first time that I woke up _

_In a strange bed_

_In a strange place _

_With a strange face_

_And a headache _

_I thought about asking her her name _

_And about her age _

_But I think its better _

_If we both just let it lay _

_Every little thing I do in the night time _

_I forget by morning_

Seriously, Puck should have learned his lesson by now. He's 22 years old, two years in collage (W_ho the fuck would've guessed, right?_), and living out on his own. He pays his own bills (not like he didn't do much of that before) and gets to do whatever the fuck he wants to (again, he did that before anyways), but really, he should have learned by now to stay away from the hard stuff and busty blonds with purses the size of California (_Really, who the fuck needs a purse that big to shove a wallet, a cellphone, and maybe a few condoms into?_).

There he is, at the bar, minding his own business and taking pulls from a shitty beer (Just because he pays for the shit doesn't mean he has to pay a lot just to get drunk), when up walks a platinum blond with (totally fake) D-cup boobs and one of those damned (even faker than the boobs) purses slung over her shoulders.

She plops down next to him and says, "Hi," with this really high pitched, annoyingly perky voice and asks him if he's the guy she's seem around campus that plays in that "totally hot" band. He has to repress the urge to say, "Well, there are a lot of guys like that around campus," because even though there is doesn't mean he's gonna fuck a up a perfectly good chance to hook up with a chick. He takes one last pull from his beer (even though he's usually only halfway done with it) and turns to her with his signature smirk and quirked eyebrow that totally has her panties sopping wet all ready and growls out, "Maybe." (The chicks really dig the whole crypticlly mysterious, doesn't-really-answer-any-of-your-questions kind of guy. He discovered that Freshman year at NYU and totally increased his pussy intake ten-fold.)

Then he asks if he can buy her a drink and before she can answer ('cause he already knows the answer) he turns to the bartender and asks for two Gin and Tonics. She looks at him with her big eyes, bats her lashes and asks him just "how'd you know?" Again, he represses the urge to say something like, "Because, that's all ever girls want to drink 'cause they don't ever like a good beer and watch far too many of those god awful romantic comedies," and fuck up the hook-up.

The next thing he knows he's knocking back tequila and licking salt off of her neck (which always, _always_ tastes like strawberries), making her giggle. Then he just sort of blacks out after the tenth shot (since he orders the good stuff to keep her impressed) and wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache sleeping in that girl's frilly, usually pink, bed from last night.

He lays there for a second wondering why the fuck he's done this to himself again before rolling out of bed, pulling on his jeans from last night and grabbing the rest of his shit, not bothering to put it on, and hightailing it out of there before whatsherfuck wakes up.

_I can't remember the first time that I woke up penniless_

_Not knowing what I spent _

_And why my shirt smells like vomit_

_And my pants stained with chocolate _

_And my crotch got this burning sensation _

_That makes me want to weep _

_A little secret _

_A little secret _

_A little secret that you bitches never keep_

_Every little thing I do in the night time_

_I forget by morning_

When he gets back to his dorm he takes to going about the routine he always does after a night like this (which is pretty much every night). He throws his shirt in the hamper (because it always smells like vomit) followed by his pants (because they _always_ have something that, at least looks like chocolate, on them). He then looks through his wallet to make sure he's got at least one good condom left and if he has any money left (though he never does have either) and replaces whats missing with supplies from his stash. He then proceeds to take a shower to wash off whatever the fuck is making his crotch burn (though its almost always the fucking lubrication from the duel sided lubed up ,'for their pleasure' condoms that little miss spread 'em shoves at him. Whatever the fuck gets him laid, right?) and trying to remember at least _some_ of what happened the night before. Then, finally, grabbing three Tylonol and chugging a Gatorade before falling back into his own bed for a power nap before he has to get to class.

The secret that he'll never tell anyone is that he's so fucking tired of the same exact type of girl trying to get with him, but he'll fuck her anyway because sex from a fake ass bitch is better than pining after the same damn girl that he goes to the same damn bar for every damn night, just hoping that she'll notice him. So he fucks the fake ass girls with fake blond hair and fake boobs and fake everything from distracting him from the very real brunette with very real boobs and a very real everything that sits across the bar that he sees every night, hoping to catch her attention and finally get a taste of her very real, very sexy self.

_**Yes? No? Too much? Too little? Tell me what you thought and if a sequel should be made for that hot little brunette that Puck so desperately wants to get with.**_


End file.
